


Radio Silence

by fiendingforthesunshine



Series: The Disabled Military Veteran AU [8]
Category: Cobra Starship, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Hostage Situations, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:02:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiendingforthesunshine/pseuds/fiendingforthesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon has been pretty good at keeping secrets. </p><p>*Set two months after Stars and Glitter*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio Silence

**Author's Note:**

> .... Hi. :) 
> 
> Here's a very belated gift for everyone! 
> 
> Also. As in Stars and Glitter, everything in italics is meant to be in Arabic in the story.

“I have my own therapist, why can’t I just talk to them?” Brendon asked, settling into the couch in the office of Dr. Bryant, the head therapist at the rehab facility Brendon had been transferred to in Vegas. 

“We have to clear you mentally before we can sign off on letting you go home for good,” She answered. Brendon could hear her pen scratching on the paper from across the room and he shrugged. 

“I’m fine.”

“You were held hostage.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Brendon smiled and tilted his head to listen to her pen going across the paper. 

She kept writing, “If I looked up ‘Big deal’ in the dictionary right now I’m pretty sure ‘being held hostage by a terrorist organization’ would be the top definition listed.” 

Brendon liked Dr. Bryant. She’d introduced herself to him the first week he was here and she wasn’t like the other doctors who typically pushed for information and didn’t play Brendon’s games right back in his face. Brendon liked people who entertained him, especially during a therapy session. 

“I already have PTSD, we know this, I’m pretty sure you can’t get double-diagnosed with the same thing,” Brendon shrugged. 

“The only person you’ll talk about this with is Spencer, why?” She stopped writing. 

“Spencer was there, and because it’s not a big deal, people get kidnapped all the time it’s nothing that hasn’t happened to me before.”

Whoops. 

“What did you just say?” 

Brendon leaned back in the couch, “I said people get kidnapped all the time.”

“And what else?”

“Nothing! Jeez, lady, I thought we were friends,” Brendon tried to smile, throw her off. 

“You said this has happened before? You mean you’ve been kidnapped before? It’s not in your file.” 

Brendon scoffed, “You know how many missions never make it to files.” 

Dr. Bryant’s chair squeaked and soon she was sitting on the couch next to Brendon, her hand resting on his shoulder, “When did this happen? Who else knows about it?” 

“My team, a couple higher-ups,” Brendon squeezed his hands together in a fist; he tried hard to hide his nervous tick from Dr. Bryant. 

“I’d really appreciate it if you told me what happened,” Dr. Bryant squeezed Brendon’s shoulder and Brendon closed his eyes. 

\--

They went radio silent 20 minutes ago. Brendon fucking hates radio silence, it’s so boring and it’s really not useful. 

The team had gone into the base 18 minutes ago which means they had 6 more minutes before they needed to report back that the mission was either finished, unfinished or they were all dead. 

Brendon was outside the base, nearly a quarter of a mile away, his rifle trained on the front door and his scope zoomed in enough to see the cracks in the wall of the building. 

Radio silence is boring for everyone but it’s especially boring for a sniper sitting in his nest this far away from the action. 

No one had come in or out of the base since the tac-team had gone in although Brendon had seen a fair amount of movement inside through one of the windows. 

Gabe and the others were given the task of grabbing the leader of the local group that had been causing them problems for a few weeks. The higher-ups wanted him alive and gave the team the right to do whatever they wanted with anyone else they found in the base while they were there. 

Brendon shuffled his feet and elbows around briefly before settling back in and lining himself back up in his scope. No change at the base with now 3 minutes before report. 

The wind picked up and Brendon stilled. 

“ _Don’t say anything, drop your gun._ ”

Brendon felt the cool tip of a rifle lined up against the side of his temple. 

Shit. 

“ _Drop your gun, if I ask again I’ll drag your dead body back to your country myself._ ”

Brendon nodded, “ _Okay, I’m turning the safety on, and then I’m dropping it._ ” 

Brendon lifted his hand up and wiggled his fingers, going for the safety, clicking it on and then he gently pushed his rifle over the side of the hill he was on. It clattered down the dirt and rocks and Brendon put both hands beside him on the ground. 

“ _Stand up, put your hands in the air above your head._ ” 

Brendon slowly pushed himself up, using his legs to push himself up onto his feet, his hands up in the air above him. 

The man reached out, his gun still pointed at Brendon’s head, and released the clip that was holding Brendon’s helmet, tossing it to the side once it was loose. 

Radio silence should’ve ended almost a minute ago now. 

“Mission completed,” Gabe’s voice crackled over the comm, “Repeat, mission completed, target acquired.” 

The man searched Brendon for any other weapons, finding his ankle holster and the swiss army knife tucked in his pocket. 

The response from base was quiet, quiet enough that Brendon’s captor didn’t seem to hear it, although he still ran his fingers past Brendon’s ears, finding the ear bud. 

“Urie, check in.” 

Brendon locked eyes with the man in front of him and raised his eyebrows at him, “ _You might buy yourself more time if you let me answer them._ ”

Brendon bought himself a smack to the face with the butt of the gun with that response but the man gestured for him to answer. 

“Urie, checking in.” 

“Good, we’re already in the transport van coming to get you, see you on the ridge, man. Saporta out.” 

The man reached up and pulled the ear bud out of Brendon’s ear, tossing it to ground and stepping his heel on it. He dug through his pockets with one hand and found a zip tie, “ _On your wrists, now_.” 

The gun never shifted from its hard press against Brendon’s skin as Brendon worked the zip tie around his wrists and tightened it to the man’s approval, “ _We probably have a few more minutes before they get up here._ ”

“ _Shut up._ ” 

Brendon shrugged. 

Brendon could now see a desert jeep parked off in the distance. Now he was kind of pissed at himself for not noticing that something was up before, he should’ve heard the jeep and he should’ve known that someone was behind him. 

He also should’ve done a lot of things; Brendon has never been a beacon of smart ideas. 

The man pushed Brendon towards the jeep and they walked for about a hundred yards before the rumble of the team’s vehicle roared behind them. He stumbled, turning Brendon around, his chest pressed against Brendon’s back, the gun still ever-present at his forehead. 

Gabe was out of the passenger seat before the car even rolled to a stop, “Take another step and we’ll shoot!” 

He scoffed, “You’d shoot your own man?” his English was rough and halting. 

Gabe, set his rifle in the dip between the car door and the frame, “Try me.” 

Brendon moved his head to the side; the gun going with him and the man tightened his hold on Brendon with his other arm. 

Brendon wanted to wring his hands, pop his knuckles, anything to break the tension as he watched the standoff. The only thing he could do with his hands was just barely touch his fingertips together. As the drama continued to mount Brendon could feel his fingernails drawing blood as he dug them in.

There wasn’t much in the way of a target for Gabe to hit, unless he didn’t mind hitting Brendon which, honestly, he probably didn’t, he’d do his best to make it non-lethal. 

Brendon and the man were nearly the same size, now that Brendon was close enough to tell. He was a bit bulkier, his sides unable to be hidden behind Brendon’s frame, his shoulders were up around Brendon’s neck and if Gabe really wanted to go for it his best bet would be the head. 

Brendon tried to move his head again, clearing more of a path and his eyes settled on Gabe. Come on, asshole. 

“We’ll give you one chance. Let our solider go and we won’t send you to Gitmo with your buddies down there as a drooling puddle.” 

He understood that, the grip on his gun tightening and pressing harder into Brendon’s head, Brendon pushed back.

“Your solider is coming with me.” 

It happened in a second. 

Brendon pushed all of his weight back, twisting to the side as he went to get as far away as possible. Gabe’s gun went off, so did the man’s gun, his arm now lower, aiming towards Brendon’s shoulder. 

Brendon stumbled, his weight off balance from his hands being tied, and fell to the ground, heaving in deep breathes. 

“Holy shit, holy shit. HOLY FUCKING SHIT.” 

Brendon sat on his knees, looking back at the man who was laying in the dirt on his back, blood pooling up under his head. The entrance wound on his forehead had just started ooze, starting a trail of blood down the side of his face. 

Brendon hardly noticed the team, Gabe, Novarro, Suarez and Blackinton had all come out of the van and were over at the scene.

Gabe was in front of Brendon, his knife out, cutting the zip ties. 

“You okay, solider? You didn’t get hit, right?” Gabe asked, as Brendon let himself be maneuvered around. The man had missed his shoulder, just barely grazing his jacket instead of skin. The only thing on Brendon that was bleeding were his fingers, he’d broken skin on almost every finger. 

Brendon shuddered and shook his head, “I’m fine. Holy shit, I’m fine.” 

Brendon sat back, moving his legs up so he could sit with his head hung between his knees as Gabe pulled out a strip of cloth to try and wipe down Brendon’s fingers. 

Once he was satisfied he thumped Brendon on the back, “How about we don’t go radio silent anymore?” 

Brendon huffed a laugh and nodded down at the ground. 

\--

“I remember those cuts on my fingers didn’t go away for weeks,” Brendon rubbed his palms together, “The mission was classified so we couldn’t tell anyone, I told people I broke a bottle I think.” 

Dr. Bryant didn’t say anything for a few moments and Brendon tucked his hands between his knees and shrugged, “The guy didn’t even take me, so I don’t even think it counts as kidnapping, right?” 

She hummed, “It definitely counts as trauma, how long ago was that?” 

“I think the mission is still classified, if I tell you that I’m pretty sure I’d have to kill you, and how embarrassing would that be for both of us?” Brendon tried to smile. Dr. Bryant lightly slapped Brendon on his forearm. They both snickered at that. 

“I’m going to recommend that you can leave at your scheduled release date,” Brendon looked up, surprised, “You and your therapist have been doing a good job together, I can tell from the files I’ve read just… make sure you talk about these things, your health is more important than some national security matter, alright?” 

Brendon groaned and threw his head back on the couch as Dr. Bryant stood up, “Don’t let your boss hear you say that, you’ll get us all locked away.” 

Dr. Bryant laughed, “I’m the boss, I decide what goes and I say, no more radio silence, alright?” 

Brendon blinked up at the ceiling, “Radio silence sucks.”


End file.
